


five lights by midnight

by solarvelvet



Category: Fallen London | Echo Bazaar
Genre: F/M, lemme be honest with you i'm shit at tagging, roommates to friends to lovers, there's not much action in the first few chapters, this is nothing like the FL writing style
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:42:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29144631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solarvelvet/pseuds/solarvelvet
Summary: May's not so thrilled to find a dead man in her lodgings.
Relationships: The Honey-Sipping Jewel Thief/OC (Fallen London)





	five lights by midnight

**Author's Note:**

> i may not have writing talent but the one thing i do have is a little too much fondness for the honey-sipping/master jewel thief.
> 
> basically i got too attached to the jewel thief in the early game, got disappointed i couldn't do more w/ him till later and decided to write a different way that my oc could meet him
> 
> if i have the motivation to keep this going i'd like for it to have more chapters

It’s when she’s standing in line at Penstock’s Land Agency that she realizes she doesn’t have enough.

May mutters curses under her breath as she empties her coat pockets, searching for more jade fragments. Her fingers graze over a large lump of _ something _ . She pulls a little off whatever it is and raises it to her eyes for inspection. 

_ Only glim? _

May sighs and pockets it again. She ponders leaving Penstock’s and dipping into Society ladies’ purses till she has as much jade as she needs. But she’s been too close to many crime-scenes for the constables to consider her entirely innocent. She’ll have to stay in line.

Time passes as the line shrinks and May gets closer to the clerk. Within five minutes she’s at the front. She plops down her jars of jade and slides it over to the Apathetic Clerk. The clerk opens the jars and begins to count. May busies herself with planning how she can leave with the keys to her new lodgings.

She’s shaken out of her daydream by the sharp voice of the clerk. “You don’t have enough.” 

the clerk says, pushing the jars back toward May. "Would some of the latest goings-on at the Shuttered Palace help?" May asks, hoping the clerk will take the deal. The clerk is silent for a moment, calculating the worth of her offering. "Slide over a pile of rostygold, and you've got yourself a deal."

Both secrets and rostygold are delivered, and May hails a hansom to her old lodgings to collect her belongings. She steps out and unlocks the door to the flophouse dormitory. The common room's engaged in a game of cards, and moon-pearls change hands rapidly. She considers joining in, but she already has enough pearls - though ill-gotten - and she doesn't want to spend any more time here than she has to. 

One player catches her walking up the stairs and calls out. "What’re you doing?" The Discreet Intelligencer slurs his words, undoubtedly honey-drunk. He had always been quite the hedonist. And a backstabbing piece of shit, but that's not the point. She ignores him and passes on to her bedroom.

May packs her bags and leaves, this time through the back stairwell. The hansom driver glares at her as she slides inside, irked at the time she spent inside the dormitory. She passes up a few echoes, and the driver stirs the horses into motion. Outside the window, the scenery rapidly changes as they approach Watchmaker's Hill. Her mind drifts.

The hansom abruptly stops, sending May's bags hurtling. She looks out the window, the mushroom-covered hill looming over the carriage . She collects her bags and exits the hansom, leaving a few moon-pearls for the driver.

Wolves howl and predatory mushrooms snap at her heels as she moves up the hill, getting closer to the cottage. The keys in her pocket weigh down her coat, leaving it longer on one side. May lands flat on her face after a certain daring fungus wraps itself around her ankle. She spits out dirt as she hacks the offending mushroom to pieces, grey juice splattering on her boots. 

By the time May reaches the cottage, she’s thoroughly covered in dirt and mushroom chunks. She slides her keys in the lock and turns the doorknob as she steps inside. The pale green glow of a dying foxfire candle lights her way inside. The cottage isn't very large, but it's more than enough space for her. When all the sconces in the walls are filled with candles and the room is sufficiently bright, she looks around again. 

There's a person lying in the corner, surrounded by dried blood. She pokes it - or them - with the tip of her parasol. No response. May rolls over the person and takes a look. The person looks to be about her age, male, and with a nasty chest wound. Why would Penstock sell her the cottage if someone was already occupying it? May would ask him, but it'll be a while till he wakes up again. Or not, judging by the look of the wound. For now, she'll just wait. 

It doesn’t take long. The dead man rises, coughing the dust out of his lungs. May finishes polishing the last bits of mushroom-dirt residue off of her clothes and looks up. Once his coughing fit is over, he speaks. “Here to lock me up, are you?” he says, scowling at her. "No. Penstock sold me this place.” she says, showing him the transaction paper.

_ Key to a cottage by the Observatory for one Miss-  _ it says in neat, evenly spaced print. May covers her name with her thumb. It’s not wise to go showing your real name to strangers, _ especially  _ not strangers that own the house you live in. Names are a weighty thing in the Neath. He looks over the parchment. “Even if you bought it, I still live here. You can’t throw me out.”

May needs to think, quick. She’s not leaving here to go back to that dormitory, to living with the Discreet Intelligencer. She left there for a good reason, and if she has anything to say about it, she’ll never come back again. The cottage is large enough for two. Maybe they could share? It wouldn’t be the best option, but it’s the best she’s got. “I’m not leaving here either. Maybe we could share? There’s two rooms.” Was that too forward of her?

He doesn’t seem to be offended at all. In fact, he looks somewhat relieved. Something about this place must be off. "You can stay if you promise to help me out with a few things. I'm the Honey-Sipping Jewel Thief. And you are?" "The Astute Operative." May replies, holding out her hand for him to shake. He shakes it and gets up from the floor, yawning. "It's late. I'm going to bed." he says, walking up the stairs. The sound of the door closing echoes from above.

It's been a long day for her. Bribing clerks, hailing hansoms, finding dead men in her new lodgings; it's almost too much for one day. May hauls herself off the couch and walks upstairs.

One room smells of honey, while the other is odorless. She chooses the scentless room, assuming the other room is the Jewel-Thief’s. Honey is in his sobriquet after all. Wrapping herself in the cotton sheets, May falls asleep.


End file.
